


Oops, my hand slipped...

by Grelle



Series: Creepypasta [4]
Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Gore, Murder, Nightmares, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 12:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11944524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grelle/pseuds/Grelle
Summary: Just a short story that does and doesn't have anything to do with C'est La Vie. Enjoy.





	Oops, my hand slipped...

It had been the same nightmare for weeks, always starting on that hill with his parents and Liu, everything would seem peaceful and normal. And then he would be distracted by that shock of gorgeous crimson in the distance. Always she was dancing in the field, like some kind of angel to tempt him from the peaceful lie he was dreaming about.  
  
Every single night he would move to approach her, try to call out to her, but always his mother would stop him. He would turn to look at her, but instead of her sweet false smile he would see a rotting corpse. His father would then remind him how no one would ever want a thing to do with him because of how ugly a monster he had become. And Liu would be no where in sight.  
  
He could nearly feel the flames licking at his skin as the hillside was swallowed in destruction, the field turning into an ocean of blood and gore, a drift with bodies painted macabre with his signature smile. And that angel would simple stand there, sinking slowly in the mess, being pulled down by ashen hands. He could feel their fingers as he tried to reach her, ever just inches from touch, being dragged down himself until he could no longer see or even breath. And then he would wake in a cold sweat, sometimes screaming...  
  
But not this night, oh no, this night was far far worse than the others. Instead of waking he found himself in her room, just down the hall from his own, blood staining his clothes and hands. Her blood...Her body laying limp upon the hardwood floor. A kitchen knife in her chest, beating a slight, sick rhythm to her dying heart from which it protruded. He tried to scream, but his voice died on a whimper in his throat as he chocked on the sorrow that overwhelmed him. He had killed the only person left who gave a shit about him. Saw him as something other than a monster.  
  
Reaching out to touch her, he found he could not. There was something between them like glass or...the surface of a mirror?! He saw his feet, well thought they were his, following them up to the face which looked much like his own but....worse. Pale and eerie, wide, black rimmed eyes, but no pupils to be found. It was like staring at a corpse or worse still some sort of shell that had taken his own image. The raven tried to will the image away, backing up from the glass which was framed in a large oval of ornate antique gold. The creature appeared to laugh at him, reaching up with blood stained fingers and painting something on the surface. Again he tried to scream, tell it to go away, lifting his hands to attempt to break the glass. But something stopped him.  
  
He was holding the knife. His own hands stained in blood...It really was a mirror and on its surface glared the words he himself had written.  
  
"Oops, my hand slipped."


End file.
